


La Théorie Triangulaire De L'Amour

by celesteennui



Series: Indigo Points [1]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-07 14:57:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1121208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celesteennui/pseuds/celesteennui
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The strongest of all structural shapes is the triangle—the three equal sides allow for the bearing of large burdens while preventing deformation. It’s not a bad idea to build a relationship in that kind of shape, but like all things that endure the wear and tear of time, the building part can be a little rough. FemBoss/Matt Miller. Rated M for grown-up time and violence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Starting with a Spark of Passion

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I own nothing, everything belongs to Volition, please don't sue, I'm broke anyway. ****  
>  **Author's Note:** I use the Laura Bailey, AKA Female Voice 1, for Fray just so y'all know. Also, I made an 8Tracks playlist for this chapter (and probably will for the next two), which is linked on my profile.
> 
> * * *

**1.** **The Boss**

As a whole, Fray finds Matt unlikable. He's petty, moody, and childish. What should she expect though? He's only twenty-two.

It blows her mind—not a lot, but some—when she discovers she's thinking of fucking him.

It's not as if she hasn't had younger men and it's certainly not like she's _old_. (Hello, they're only nine years apart!) But the guys she usually takes to bed usually don't whine at her about grabbing enough data clusters at the end of a grueling day in a simulation. Or treat her like a moron. And they especially don't walk away with their jawbone unbroken after treating her like a moron.

Space, she eventually reasons when they start fumbling on the ratty couch in the cargo bay, is just fucking her head irreparably.

It gets kind of hard to blame space when Matt makes her come twice in a row with his fingers, though. Even more so when he demonstrates that his lips and tongue are magic—even if his lipstick leaves a lot to be desired. These things she doesn't expect—that she shouldn't expect—are warning bells and the all-knowing gut, the thing that has kept her alive at her lowest, that's gotten her out of the way of bullets, that she's always regretted not heeding whenever she fucks up and ignores it, says Fray is teetering on something so very dangerous right now.

But Fray kisses Matt once they're spent anyway and then lets herself fall asleep with him still inside of her.

**2.** **Matt**

She has no right to kiss like she does, Matt thinks. So sweet and warm. Her tongue vaguely tastes like lemon drops, tart with just a hint of honey. How in the bloody hell Fray can manage that when there isn't even any sugar on the ship, he'll never know, but the moment he tastes it, Matt knows it's going to be an addiction.

He's always thought that Fray was attractive. To be honest, there are very few women he does _not_ think are attractive, same for men, but for years he's kept thoughts of shagging her locked up tight. She's too volatile, too pigheaded, too… _Fray_. Going up to Kinzie and pinching her arse is a better idea when compared to sleeping with the Boss.

But he just can't say no when she propositions him. He wants to taste the warm olive of her skin and discover the tang of her sweat. He wants to see how far the faint dusting of freckles (you can't even see them unless you look closely) goes down. Matt's imagined that they pepper the swell of her breasts and even her belly and thighs; he's half convinced he could die happy if he found out the answer.

Uncovering those questions is heaven and that alone should terrify Matt. She kisses him, though, post-orgasm, as he softens inside her, and he can't care less about how crazy this might be. The natural, sweet poison that lives on Fray's tongue paralyzes him and Matt closes his eyes, deciding to be content with that, for the time being.

**3.** **The Boss**

She tells herself, after waking up awkward and sticky with Matt wrapped around her, that she's done with him. Not that he wasn't a good lay, quite the contrary, but sex can get complicated if you're not careful. Complicated isn't a thing that Fray can handle right now on top of everything else so she's done with Matt. Simple as that.

And then for whatever reason two days later she finds herself in the cargo bay again wondering what Matt's cock tastes like and enough spare time on her hands to find out. Surprisingly, Matt yields to her second round of advances, readily too.

The cutest sounds come out of him when Fray starts. He's like a puppy getting his tummy rubbed, which, actually she does do sometimes as part of foreplay. The self-styled "Cyber God" is a sensitive little fella.

Which, actually, he's not that "little", if she's being honest, and lying about his dick is a hard thing to do when she's got her lips wrapped around it. Matt's not packing a horse-cock or anything, but he's definitely got more going on than the skinny jeans would ever tell; the fun side of being grower-not-a-shower is the surprise waiting on your partner. From time to time, Fray is a big fan of surprises, especially when orgasms are involved.

She can make his eyes roll back in his skull just by pressing her tongue to the juncture between glans and shaft. Matt shakes like he has a neurological disorder when Fray drags her teeth along the inside of his thigh and vibrates when she laps pre-come from the slit of his cock. He chokes and whimpers when she deepthroats him then screams when she denies his orgasm.

"Fucking— _Why?!_ " he strains to keep his hips still, Fray can tell by the way the muscles in his thighs twitch. His fingers are curled into the sofa cushions to the point he'll probably tear the wants so much to grab the back of her head and thrust, it's killing him. And yet even as Fray stares up at him, feigning innocence, tracing veins with the tip of her tongue, he never makes a move to do that.

Half of her just wants to crack that willpower like an egg, wants to see what happens when his control has been ground into nothing. She's not particularly worried, she could take Matt out in a heartbeat, but she still finds the thought of him trying to hold her down and fuck her face… _exciting_.

Fray is weird though, and she knows it. And because Matt's being so very good and she's so very ready to have his hand down her suit, she doesn't push. _Today_ she doesn't push.

Matt sobs as Fray releases the base of his shaft and pulls him in as far as he'll go. With her hands sliding to his backside (Matt has a sadly flat ass, her one real complaint about his physique), she encourages him to thrust. He moves slow at first, disbelief clear on his face, but he gets over the shock quick enough coming just a few seconds later with both hands tangled in her hair.

She licks him clean because while today she isn't pushing, the way he raked her scalp says that she'll definitely try later.

**4.** **Matt**

Matt hasn't been a virgin for quite some time, contrary to Fray's impression of him. He never had slews of pretty girls dangling off his arms, though once Kiki did dangle him by _his_ arm out a window. The point being is that he understands the mechanics of sex, very well in fact. Islay, his first girlfriend, had been something of a taskmaster when it came to him learning how to make her happy. Her "lessons" had been the one really good thing about their relationship. Now Matt's having fun trying out all of the things she taught him on a woman he's tried to kill and vice versa.

In his head, it doesn't sound so righteously buggered.

Still, even if he's bedding a psychopath, Matt at least knows that his hard work is appreciated. After a week they've gone at it enough that he's categorized each type of post-coitus mood she goes through _and_ he can use sex to get his preferred Fray. A handy thing, truly.

Fray after a quick fingering, like say, in a closet, doesn't change much, but she lets him hold her a bit and never fails to reciprocate Matt's efforts with gusto. Full-quickie Fray smiles contentedly for an hour afterward and preforms very well in the simulation. If they have time to do a regular, relaxed run, she'll be smooth and mellow like cream all day. After a round of rough sex, Fray is gentle, especially if she's the one who did the handcuffing.

Matt's very favorite Fray, however, comes along after she's had a multiple orgasm with his tongue wrapped around her clit. She dissolves into a boneless heap that while not so keen on any acrobatic reciprocating moves—and _damn_ does she have a ton of those—is, for lack of a better term, _sweet_.

And giggly too, he's discovering as he slides himself back up to eye-level with her after prying her twitching thighs from around his head. Matt has to work on his grip; he's seen what those legs can do wrapped around someone's neck and he does _not_ want to be a victim of friendly fire as it were, no matter how fucking good she tastes.

Fray, while trembling and breathless seems to note this to and reaches a shaky hand out to run through his hair. She can't pull him into a kiss, she's too weak and uncoordinated from what he just did, but Matt takes the hint and meets her lips.

That's another thing he greatly appreciates about Fray, she'll kiss him no matter where his mouth has been. It's a trait that's very rare in a partner and one that he shares.

"Holy fuck, you are _good_ at that." She pants against his lips after a brief kiss. The way that her chest heaves post-coitus Matt wonders how close she is to blacking out and he's mindful of it.

"I know." It's not arrogant if it's true. Well, it _is_ but he's earned it.

She giggles, continuing to pepper his jaw and the underside of his chin with open-mouthed kisses. The sound does something to Matt, something strange and scary that makes him forget how hard he still is and only wish to hear more of it.

It's also terribly distracting. Matt closes his eyes and buries his face in the hollow of Fray's shoulder for one second and the next she's got him rolled onto his back, grinning. Apparently, she's not out of acrobatic moves just yet. Or surprises.

"Bloody hell, you're good at that."

She laughs again and Matt shivers. "I know."

**5.** **The Boss**

Somewhere between her kicking his ass and sheltering in MI6, Matt had filled out. He'd never be buff or able to take her on (not with fists, anyway) but he wasn't so much of a stick anymore. She likes it though, likes the lightness of his frame as it hovers over her own whenever she permits him to take top. His hands too, are an unexpected surprise. They're soft, cool, feminine; they cup her breasts and splay over her sex reverently.

Weirdly enough, her favorite part of Matt's body is his stomach. He doesn't have a six-pack or anything, but it's firm and framed by the sharp "V" of his hipbones with a perfect happy trail that Fray suspects him of manicuring like a lawn when he's alone.

Plus he's _super_ ticklish so there's no shortage of fun to be had.

"Why're you cringing?" she asks as if she doesn't know the answer. From her vantage half off of the couch, with her head tucked just under his so tha her teeth skim his collarbone, Fray's breasts are pressed into Matt's belly. Super-pebbly nipples plus a hypersensitive computer geek equals an impressive sort of sexual frustration.

"M'not cringing." His voice comes at a high, unstable pitch; he's trying so hard not to laugh.

Fray pulls back just enough so that her nipples barely graze his flesh as she slides upward. Matt, as expected shudders and chokes just a little.

"Aww, Matty, we can stop if you're not comfortable…" She kisses his chin then slides right back down even slower this time, adding teeth and tongue to her work as she goes.

Matt whines low in his throat, fingers curling in the hair at the nape of her neck. "You're the Devil—Ahah!—" She nips his belly button and his whole body jerks. He glares down her, pink faced, sweating, and trembling. He pouts so pretty when he says, "Don't call me 'Matty' dammit."

Pressing her lips to the spot she just assaulted, Fray does her best to look like the very picture of contrition. It's a piss poor attempt given it's, well, _her_ , but Matt seems to expect this.

He probably expects her to rake her nails just above his hipbones as she does next, too, but he appears to have given up giggling then moaning. Fray rewards his submission by only torturing him a little more before moving onto a blowjob.

**6.** **Matt**

As far as backsides go, Fray might just have the most perfect arse that Matt has ever seen. Or touched. Or…done _other_ naughty things to. Her breasts are nice too; they're not particularly big but they are perky and topped with tiny copper nipples so sensitive that they pucker at the slightest brush. He's never been attracted to muscles before—Fray's no body builder but she _is_ very lithe with strong definition in her shoulders, abdomen, arms, and thighs. Matt's attracted to her muscles, though, adores the feeling of all that power coiled beneath or on top of him. It's Fray's back, however, that really fascinates Matt.

Lying naked on her stomach, Fray dozes after they've gone at it leaving Matt a few hours to admire her form while he works. Between decoding, recoding, and all of the other million things Kenzie and he need to do, he traces the curve of her spine over and over again. From the strong shoulders to the perfect valley right before the swell of her bottom, Fray is a lush landscape to behold.

He gets about an hour and a half of real work done in the three he spends watching her snoring figure before putting his laptop aside.

"Hmm?" is Fray's drowsy response when Matt touches her shoulder, signaling he's about to be in her personal space. First thing that a man learns about fucking a gang leader turned chief executive: surprise contact can get you tossed across the room. Luckily, Matt learns well and fast.

He hovers above her for a few seconds, appreciating the faint splash of freckles on her tailbone before dipping down and pressing his lips to the space. Fray stretches, making a noise he might just call a purr.

Swiping her hair back from her face (Matt's never quite been able to tell if it was black or brown, it depends on the light) she gazes at him over her shoulder. Her eyes are hooded, lazy but intrigued. "Watcha doin'?"

Matt doesn't answer, not right away. Instead, he takes his time moving his mouth up her backbone inch by inch, enjoying the flutter of muscle he feels beneath and the way that Fray hisses when he adds a random bite to the journey. By the time that he's reached the nape of her neck, he's molded his body to Fray's, pressing his stomach and chest into her as if he's trying to slip under her skin.

For a few moments, Matt doesn't make another move, despite the return of his erection and the none-too subtle wriggling of Frays hips. It's enough to have the closeness of skin-on-skin eating up his senses and feel that steely spine of hers against his belly.

"Miller, if you don't hurry up and start fucking me, you're getting bucked and I'm going back to sleep."

He chuckles into her hair; an impatient Fray is the most sincere Fray and Matt's kind of into being ordered around.

"Yes, ma'am."


	2. It Grows with Intimacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good sex can lead you strange places.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's another 8Tracks to go with this chapter, you can find a link to it via my profile, if you are so inclined. Enjoy the read.

**Disclaimer:** Saints Row is the property of people who are not me. I'm not making any money.

**1\. Matt**

He's pegged Fray for a lot of things: sociopath, scary driver, bad with electronics, gorgeous in a pencil skirt and stilettos (he's not above a fetish or two) just to name a few. Never, ever, did he suspect that she would be a fan of the old school LoVista puzzle games, which she is. What's more is that she's good at them, really good, better than he is in fact.

Which is why he pouts when she tosses the handheld back to him, grinning with unbearable complacency.

"I believe that would be the new high score," she says.

"You're cheating," he says, inspecting the game for something that would prove his theory. "You can't even set up a TiVo schedule, there's no way you can be good at this."

"And you're a computer geek who's a damn good lay," Fray counters unperturbed by the smirk on her face. "Unicorns exist, _Matty_."

He glowers, mostly because it's expected of him. He did _not_ miss the compliment or the spark in her pale, gray-green eyes when she paid it.

"I told you not to call me that," he tells her, trying to sound stern even as he puts the LoVista aside while she stands and slowly stretches. The space suits aren't his idea of fashion or comfort but one thing Matt can't complain about is the easy glide of the front zippers on them.

Or how nice it is that Fray will leave hers unzipped almost down to her belly button.

Fray bites her lower lip, the very picture of contrition as she meanders to stand in the V of Matt's legs. "Sorry. I forgot."

Unthinking, Matt reaches out for her, resting his hands on Fray's hips. She responds to his pull, straddling his lap. Something in him jumps as her warmth presses against his, something that's not just his cock. Matt's pulse speeds but he ignores it. "Mmhmm. Pardon me if I think you're lying through your teeth, Madame President."

"Hey, watch it," she warns, though there isn't an ounce of real malice to her tone, "insulting the lady in charge can be a federal offense, Agent Miller."

"Well, I didn't insult Kensington, so…"

"Oh! Okay, well, if _that's_ the kind of abuse you're into today, I'm gonna go grab some data clusters for—" Matt cuts her off with a kiss, stilling her attempt to rise and sliding his hands from her hips to her bottom. He doesn't have a strong grip or anything, Fray at her weakest could gut Matt at his strongest, of that he is sure. But Fray stays, she makes a little noise of protest in her throat, but she stays. Not only that, she kisses back and starts shrugging out of the top half of her suit.

"Jesus Christ! We eat there!"

Agent Kensington's voice is shriller than it usually is—a fact that Matt doubted was even possible. The murder in her gaze is normal, though certainly not comforting. From an outsider's standpoint, he can understand her scruples. He _does_ have their leader, naked from the waist up, in his lap while he sits at the kitchen table. _With_ his hands cupping her ass. And his teeth tugging on her nipple.

From his standpoint, however, he's got Fray half-naked and in his lap, his hands on her ass, her nipple between his teeth, and—most importantly—he is turned on. Matt ignores how Fray tenses and he meets Kensington's glare with a shrug.

"Don't worry; I'm sure she'll make me clean up my mess." And he presses his face right back into Fray's chest. Mostly because, now that the words are out, he cannot fucking believe that he said that to Kensington, of all people.

The redhead makes an inaudible type of growl, which is chased by the sound of her stomping off. He gets to live. For now.

"Oh my god, I can't believe you just mouthed off to Kinzie." It sounds like a bit of awe is in her voice. Well, maybe not awe, he's not sure that's possible unless new fire arms are on the table, but maybe impressed? Also, her breasts muffle things.

He groans. "I know. I'll be dead before morning."

"Aw. Poor baby." She runs her fingers through his hair and turns his face up to hers for a kiss. It's actually almost sweet.

Then one of her hands slides between them to cup his erection through the insulated fabric of his suit. "You should fuck me before she shoves you out the airlock."

A bad joke—because Kensington could do it—but, as it's occurred to him before, she's half-naked, in his lap, he has a firm hold on her delectable arse, and he is _really_ turned on.

"I can do that."

**2\. The Boss**

Aside from the freaky red grid underneath the water, there's a lot of the simulation that feels and looks startlingly real. Virtual Steelport even has the same smells that the real Steelport did. But knowing that it's not real takes the punch out of it all. Fray never thought she'd miss something as gross as the smell of actual hobo piss and diesel while sitting on the rock bridge just off of Henry Steel Mills.

She's so engrossed in the sound of not-real-tide and even-less-real seagulls that she doesn't notice Matt is in the system until he's standing in front of her.

"What're you doing?" He doesn't say it like he normally does, exasperated and none too subtly waiting for her to complete tasks for him. The tone of his voice and the look on his face are genuinely curious.

"Moping." She readjusts her legs, pulling them to her chest so that she can rest her chin on her knees. "Why? Something come up?"

Matt shakes his head. "No. You've done everything you can for now. I just…" He looks up and away, kicking at the gravel. "It's been a few hours. I thought maybe you were stuck."

He was concerned. She should tease him about it. Relentlessly. She expects herself to. _Matt_ expects her to.

She shrugs and instead says, "You can sit if you want."

Taken aback, Matt only blinks at her for a few moments. Fray understands why he's surprised. She's pretty surprised herself when he paces a little then actually sits down beside her. Close even.

Quiet suffocates the air around them for some time. Matt obviously doesn't know why he's here anymore than she does. He came, though, and she didn't turn him away. So they sit awkwardly watching a synthetic world run.

"What do you miss the most about Earth?" she asks when she can't take the silence anymore.

"Other than it existing, you mean?"

That makes her laugh and he smiles, apparently proud to accomplish such.

"Yeah, smartass, besides that little technicality."

Matt actually looks thoughtful for a few seconds. To be honest, she expected him to say "the internet" right off the bat. Or "porn" at the very least.

"Food," he finally says. " _Real_ food. Tacos. Biscuits. Pasta. Coffee. _God_ do I miss coffee."

"Not tea?"

"I'm English. It's implied that I miss tea."

"Gotcha."

He nudges her shoulder with his own. "What about you? What do you miss the most?"

Fray shakes her head then looks skyward. It's a strange feeling, knowing that the stars aren't really there, that if she manages to get high enough, a barrier will knock her back down. They'll always be out of reach from Steelport now.

Finally, she sighs and says, "Man, what _don't_ I miss? I've been waxing nostalgic for gross shit like the smell of the fish market off of Crawford and that place was toxic."

"Yes it was," Matt agrees. "Especially during summer."

She laughs again. "Fish guts. I miss fish guts. What has my life become?"

"Rather late to start questioning your life choices, isn't it?" He's teasing her, he's actually teasing her. Fray is amazed, not just with the fact that he does it, but that it feels so natural. As does the way that he slides an arm around her shoulders.

Most mind-blowing of all: she lets him.

More quiet consumes them, though, this time it's not nearly as awkward. Fray might even go so far to say it's not awkward at all. It should be. Matt Miller shouldn't be commiserating with her. Matt Miller shouldn't be able to make her laugh. Matt Miller shouldn't be able to put his arm around her. Most of all, however, Fray shouldn't be _letting_ him.

But she does. It feels (mostly) good and she's too tired to argue.

"I miss sunlight the most," she says finally. "Sunlight and rain and anything that's not this consistently perfect twilight bullshit."

Matt laughs; it's short, she feels it more than hears it, however that it really registers, Fray finds it soothing. "Yeah. A little sunshine would be nice."

**3\. Matt**

While he may gripe about it, Matt secretly likes whenever Fray invites him to join her in the simulation. When they're on the same side and she's not out for his head, her work is artistry. Especially with super powers.

He adores Asha, really he does, and he has nothing but respect for her and her skills. Something about the way Fray does things it's… _raw_. His friend spent years training and calculating. In sparring, simulation, and field modules, Asha is every inch a tactician, even hand to hand combat is more like a chess match and that's to be lauded.

Fray, though, she jumps in with everything. Every battle is wild and glorious. She dances and bleeds and breaks bones and Matt has never seen anything more poetic.

He also finds that, while she cannot drive a car for shit, Fray on just two wheels is an epic experience. It takes a hell of a lot of arguing to get him to acquiesce to said experience, however.

It comes up after she's cleared out several Flashpoints, a Hotspot, and taken down yet another Warden.

"That was awesome." She's like a little girl sometimes, with how excited she gets by this. Matt can't disagree though, it _was_ awesome. He also finds her grin infectious. Maybe because Fray has hold of his jacket, pulling him in so that her smile is just about the only thing he sees. That's not a complaint.

They kiss and it's hard, hungry— _alive_. They're in a virtual prison but he can still feel her pulse in her tongue when it touches his and the warmth of her skin. He wants to fuck her here and find out if it feels as real too.

She pulls back just as his hands start sliding up beneath her tank top. Fray changes her wardrobe and hair in-simulation often, but he's noticed that when she's running around doing tasks she really favors her Steelport closet. Sturdy boots or sneakers, jeans, sweatpants, things she can move around in, things that make her feel normal. Somehow, she's managed to make all of that incredibly sexy.

"Let's go to the Broken Shillelagh," she says. His jacket is still in her grasp but she's moved just out of his.

"Why?" he asks both intrigued and desperate to continue.

She shrugs but the mischievous light hasn't left her eye. "I wanna virtual beer," she says. "And, you know, maybe a victory fuck in the restroom."

"You're vile," he says it with a grin that means he approves and is more than willing. "The pool table would be better."

"Fuck yeah." She kisses him again, quickly before jumping back and pulling up her hub. Matt only realizes she's ordering a vehicle when the X-2 Phantom materializes and they're both on it.

"Wait? What are you doing?" Really, he does try not to panic. It's a failing venture, though. "No. Fray. _No_. Absolutely not. You have Super Sprint. You can glide and I can teleport. NO."

"This is more fun," she says.

"For _you_!" he all but snarls. "You're a hell of a lot less breakable in here than I am, dammit!"

"Matt, trust me."

"Not a chance. I'm—"

His dismount is interrupted by Fray leaning back into him, far enough so that their eyes meet. "Matt. Trust me."

He wants to get off of that bike. He wants to do the sane, logical thing. Fray hits _everything_ in a car, Matt does not want to find out what in the fuck will happen when there isn't a steel box to at least ward of some of the damage she's going to inflict.

"If you run us into a building, I'm going to—to do something _awful_." That's all he can muster as he cracks.

Fray grins and kisses the underside of his chin before straightening up. "I know you will, baby. I believe you."

Further grumbling is derailed as she takes Matt's hands and urges him to put his front flush with her back. "Hold on tight," she says. "But no death grip and when I lean one way, you lean with me, got it?"

He grumbles into her shoulder. Fray takes it as consent.

"Okay. Here we go."

He closes his eyes as she revs the engine up. The vibration coming up from between his legs is terrifying. And arousing. Mostly terrifying, though. His stomach pitches when she hits the gas.

With eyes shut tight against the wind, Matt waits for impact. She's going to crack his skull open. He's going to be a vegetable. The mercy she offered in Steelport was no mercy; Fray was only waiting to kill him in a different virtual reality.

His eyes open by chance during a turn. Fray steers the bike to the right and, wonder of wonders, it's _sensible_. She slows down—she actually slows down! He always thought that she didn't know what brakes were before. His body leans with hers instinctively and she smoothly guides them upright and straight before picking up speed.

Matt still isn't crazy about how fast they're going, or how Fray rides right on the yellow line, zipping between cars, but he doesn't doubt that she's in total control. He feels it in the tension of her muscles and the effortless navigation.

And then she breaks, tipping them forward on one wheel (Matt may let out a shrill noise) for several seconds before she eases them down and backward. They're parked perfectly parallel in front of the Broken Shillelagh.

Fray wriggles so that she can turn around and face him(Matt can't seem to release her) smirking.

"Oh look, not a scratch on you." The smugness in her voice and on her face is unbearable but Matt can't muster any indignant rage. He's still too fucking surprised.

"How the bloody hell did you do that?!" he demands. "I—you can't _not_ take a hummer down the sidewalk but you can keep a motorcycle on the asphalt?"

Fray sighs, flipping her ponytail off of her shoulder. "Dude, okay. I've been driving dirt bikes and motorcycles since I was eight. It's natural. The first time I ever got behind something with four wheels was when I was nineteen. I prefer what I know. Now," she leans in just close enough to nip at his lower lip, "are you gonna get me drunk and nail me on that pool table, or am I gonna find someone who will?"

She doesn't wait for an answer. Fray breaks out of the circle of his arms and slides off of the Phantom, sashaying her down the stone walkway. Only at the pub's entrance does she pause, and look back at him over her shoulder.

"Un-fucking-believable," is all that he can mutter as he hurries after her. He almost wants to drag her back onto the bike and make her prove it wasn't a fluke. The pool table, however, is closer.

**4\. The Boss**

For three days post their little Nyteblade adventure, Fray barely interacts with Matt. Kinzie has a bunch of hacking and injecting for her to do if they want to find Johnny—he _is_ alive, Fray can feel it in her bones—and he's busy with his part of their venture. Still, she's gotten used to the sound of his typing and even more used to the regular sex, so by the time he gets her attention on the fourth day, she finds herself agreeing to look at another simulation he's made, no questions asked.

It's the sex. Yep. It's all about sex.

"So what are we doing this time?" she asks, following him along one of the virtual downtown streets. "Are we avenging Nyteblade this episode? Carving out Nyteblade 2's origin story? Is it a prequel?"

He laughs. "Not this time, but thanks for the interest. I _am_ working on those. Here." He grabs her hand and leads her up to the doors of one of the skyscrapers. It's glowing like one of the gateways.

Just before they go through, however, Matt jerks to a stop. "Oh! Wait!" And he runs over to one of the random virtual people, a guy in a suit, punching him in the throat. While he's down, Matt steals the guy's tie.

"Far be it from me to discourage your style as a super hero, Matt, but what the hell?" Usually, _she's_ the one punching people for fun. Behind him, the virtual Saints are gunning down the cop car that came into the area for the disturbance. They obliterate it before an opposing shot is fired. Fray does love having minions.

"I needed a blindfold, turn around."

"Excuse me?" Blindfolds are for the bedroom. They are _not_ in a bedroom.

Jesus, let a guy bend you over a pool table in virtual-public and suddenly there are no boundaries.

Matt rolls his eyes. "It's a surprise. Come on. _Trust me, Fray_." He's too good at imitating her. At least that's what she's going to blame it on.

"Ugh, fine." She turns as he asked, allowing Matt to settle the tie over her eyes. "But if this gets weird, I will shove that dildo bat up your ass until you can give it head."

He laughs again, kissing the spot behind her ear that makes her shiver. Bastard. "Noted. And I promise it's nothing like that." His hands find her shoulders and gently urge her forward.

The usual "WHOOSH" that accompanies moving between gateways comes, though this is much briefer. The ground doesn't shift or feel strange when Fray steps onto it, but something in the air is different, she can't name it though. Uneasiness hasn't slithered up her spine but she is feeling impatient. Maybe a bit excited too.

"Can I take this thing off yet?" she asks as Matt continues steering her.

"Hold on. Just a little…" He turns her to the left then nudges her back to the right. "Okay."

She's blind for a second after the tie is tugged away. Instinctively she ducks her head and throws an arm up over her eyes, backpedaling into Matt. A snarl is forming on her tongue but it fades when she catches sight of the floor. She'd recognize the black Italian marble anywhere.

They're standing in Saints HQ, her first real home in Steelport. The castle she had conquered from Loren then defended from Temple. It's empty like it never was before, but it's still everything that she remembers. The same art, the same furniture, even the same carpets that Shaundi had picked out so meticulously.

And through the gigantic windows, sunlight is streaming in.

Fray can't stop herself, she runs for the patio. The doors open and she _feels_ warmth and light, just like June. It's so strong that she can't look up without guarding her eyes, and _fuck_ , there are clouds rolling by.

How has she missed clouds?

The water in the pool and hot tub lacks the god-awful red-grid. Fray drops down and wriggles her fingers just against the surface; it feels precisely the right temperature from being under the summer sun.

She turns back toward the house, Matt is leaning against the frame of the door she ran out. He looks…Apprehensive? Smug? It's a strange combination.

"Do you like it?" he asks.

"You made this?" It's a stupid thing ask. She knows it, he knows it, but the response is kneejerk when she's this blown away. They both seem to understand that.

Shifting as if he was uncomfortable, in that armor in this heat, she can't blame him, he looks down nodding. "Yeah."

"Why? I mean, _thank you_ , Matt. But…why?"

That gets a smirk from him. "You really have to ask?"

"Well, since it isn't Christmas and I'm pretty sure you don't know my birthday, yeah."

Matt shakes his head, still smiling. He ambles toward her, hands shifting idly from his hips, to cross over his chest, then uncrossing and falling to his sides. "You gave me _Nyteblade_ , Fray. That's pretty much the single greatest thing anyone has ever done for me. The least that I could do was give you a simulation with a little sunlight."

Something in her chest lurches when he says that. It lurches, then stills, and suddenly she can feel all of the blood pulsing in her body at once but especially in her throat. It is terrifying.

How did he remember? _Why_ did he remember? He doesn't even like her half of the time; she wants to kill him at least once a day. It makes no sense.

Fray's panic is interrupted by Matt's voice.

"It's really only the penthouse. If you tried going down into the lobby or leap off the helipad—no powers in here, by the way—you'd just get repelled. The elevator takes you back to the original simulation. This is a pocket. Like our nightmares. If you…Um…if you don't like it—"

He's rambling, nervous and looking about in every direction while his neck and ears turn scarlet. Apparently, her thoughts are running across her face and they seem displeased.

"No! No!" she rushes to assure him, part of her whispering that she shouldn't. "I love it! It's great. I'm just…really surprised. This—Jesus this is amazing."

The nervousness starts to ebb at her praise. Matt is a peacock. Or maybe a cat. A combination? "It's nothing, really. I _have_ been building virtual worlds for years, you know."

"I do," she says. "You're a very talented man, Matt Miller."

He grins a little at that. Fuck why does he have to be so adorable when he grins? "Yep. You know," he slides an arm over her shoulders, guiding her out onto the helipad. That thing in Fray's chest stutters but she ignores it by pressing herself into Matt's side. "I designed the temporal code for movement, things will move on like a natural day. Should get a sunset in few hours."

"Really?"

"Yep."

"I like sunsets." She reaches up to swipe her fingers through the fringe he's given himself in this costume. She likes it and wonders if he might bring it into the real world sometime soon. If she drops enough hints, he just might. "What're we gonna do until then?"

Matt shrugs, though his arm has slid from her shoulders to her waist. "I dunno. It's your house after all. You tell me, Boss."

**5\. Matt**

In his short life Matt has had four girlfriends and approximately twice that number of one-night stands. He would never consider himself good in relationships. He doesn't remember birthdays, anniversaries, and Valentine's Day is a joke. Nor has he ever been one to worry about anyone else's skin, well, except for Asha, but they're partners and friends, that's different. Domesticity is beyond him, sitting around and doing nothing in someone else's company for the sheer want of it is a laughable. And, most of all, fuck " _feelings_ ".

He remembers that Fray misses sunlight, though, and builds her a program, however miniscule it might be, that gives her some. Matt thinks about digging up when her birthday is—just to be a smartass, of course. They both think that Valentine's Day is a joke.

Worrying happens all of the damn time. When she's in the simulation and fighting, when she's leaping off of skyscrapers and towers for the hell of it, and especially when she goes into the rift. It doesn't stop in the simulation, when Fray's on the ship she doesn't always want to eat like she should and Matt has to argue with her for twenty minutes before she'll take care of herself.

As much as they argue, and they still do have a lot to argue about, he still finds himself in her company when they can spare the time. Matt is _happy_ , actually happy, to work on his laptop while she plays on the LoVista or naps; she lets him put his legs across her lap. They shower together, no sex involved even! And more often than not he's sleeping in her room.

He does his best not to think about any of it. It becomes terribly hard to do, though, sometimes, like tonight. She's in her room, probably already asleep from an exhausting day, he's at his station in the cargo bay, and his thoughts are positively tainted by wishing that he was in her vicinity.

It's stupid. More than stupid, it's suicidal. Fray is dangerous, complicated. She kills people for looking at her wrong—she's not even really _human_.

But then there's a part of Matt that whispers _he's_ no angel either. He's destroyed lives too; he just chooses the impersonal route of doing it via keystrokes. It doesn't make his hands any cleaner than Fray's.

Maybe that's why they work so well together…

He wants to slam his fist in his own face for such a thought.

Mat is so absorbed in arguing with himself/trying to cover it up with coding, that he doesn't even notice Fray is in the cargo bay until he looks up from his screen by chance.

She's curled on the couch in her pajamas, pajamas being generous term for the sports bra and panties she sleeps in. Her eyelids are shut but he gets the impression she's not out yet. She looks absolutely drained, though.

Worry tugs at his chest again, unbidden and unwelcome. Still he has to say something. "Hey. Something wrong?"

Fray only shrugs, half-asleep. "Can't sleep, it's too quiet. Don't mind me." And she tucks her head back down, intent on resting.

Don't mind her. Like it's that bloody simple. She can't sleep and so she comes to him to try and solve that problem.

Does she need him? That's a terrifying thought for many reasons; the most prolific of them being that the reverse might be true.

He makes himself concentrate on code for a few hours more. It's good at eating up his attention. Normally. From time to time Matt finds his gaze wandering up and down Fray's figure, tracing the brilliant reds and purples of the tattoo inked up her right side. It's gigantic, going from her ankle to right beneath her breasts, and the only ink she sports. It's also incredibly feminine which is something he's never equated with Fray.

There are a lot of things that Matt hasn't equated with Fray, though. Back in Steelport that had been how she dethroned him. Now it's…

Matt eventually closes his station and peels his suit down to the t-shirt and boxers that he wears beneath. He shakes Fray's shoulder gently, carefully, whispering for her to scoot because he's lying down as well. Without opening her eyes, she makes room then wriggles close. He thinks that she may sigh when he wraps his arms around her, honestly, Matt can't tell, being too preoccupied with the soft skin of her neck as he burrows his face there.

**6\. The Boss**

The last time Fray had a live in lover was… _never_. That isn't her style. As complicated as her life is (and has pretty much always been) being unattached makes sense. It's enough to have family in her crew and she likes silence when she sleeps.

Which is why it is so goddamn frustrating to be unable to drift off since she has her room all to herself for once.

There are six small bunks on the ship, each with two beds. Right now, nothing is crowded, what with only four people aboard, but Fray expects things to get more cramped once they get everyone back—and they _will_ get everyone back.

She isn't worried about space; _she_ commandeered one room to herself at the start, Executive Privilege and all that. Thing is, though, because she and Matt are fucking one another's brains out pretty regularly, she's gotten into the habit of him being around when she falls asleep.

Fray isn't sure just how long she lays there tossing about. It's completely stupid; she's had a long, trying day in the simulation nearly getting her ass handed to her by one of Zinyak's Wardens. All she wants is for her brain to shut itself off.

But it can't. The air is too quiet, absent of keystrokes as Matt screws around on his laptop. There aren't any blips coming from the LoVista handheld they found in the cargo bay or the angry commentary as Matt plays it. The only breath bouncing off the walls is Fray's and _she_ doesn't snore. Most of all she feels the absence of warmth on the right side of the makeshift king-size bed (she tore the bunks apart and put their respective mattresses on the floor).

In the end, she can't deal with it.

Matt is in the cargo bay, as always, working at his stand station. Whatever it is that he's doing, he's really intent on it, enough so that he doesn't notice Fray for a minute, not until after she's curled herself up on the couch and her eyes are drooping at the sound of typing.

"Hey," he's surprised, she can't blame him there, Fray's surprised that she's there too. "Something wrong?"

Yes, is what she wants to say to him. Yes, and all of the reasons why, not limited to how stupid she may or may not feel right at this second.

Instead, Fray shrugs, drowsy just from being in his vicinity, too tired to do anything but turn her head. "Can't sleep, it's too quiet. Don't mind me."

Matt appears to be struggling with words too. The understanding that filters through his eyes followed by the nervousness ruminating in her own gut whenever she's in his presence, tells her as much. But, like her, he swallows it down and nods before turning back to the computer screen.

Sleep takes Fray fast then, hurried on by Matt's erratic typing. She rests dreamless and undisturbed, save for when Matt nudges her onto her side sometime later, so that she'll make room for him.


	3. And Cements With Commitment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uncharted territory.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own and not getting paid. Please, don't sue.

* * *

**1\. The Boss**

The shift in… _whatever_ you might call what Fray shares with Matt, starts after they rescue Shaundi. The fact that those two don't get along might be the understatement of the century, though most of the disdain comes from Shaundi's end. The ire that her friend throws the MI6 Agent's way almost makes all of Kinzie's glaring seem amiable.

For the most part, Fray takes the stance that she usually does when members of her crew aren't meshing; she stays right the hell out of it. It's even more important to do that now because for one, Matt is really good in bed and Fray treasures her orgasms, and for two, Shaundi is her sister. Of course, though, it all comes to a boiling point she can't ignore, because that is just what an incredibly lucky girl she is.

It's just after jumping out of the simulation and getting a shower. She's in the cargo bay with Matt, reading off of a Kindle (why and how the Zin had this shit on their ship is anyone's guess) and while he types away. His legs are over her lap and it's…nice. Quiet. _Good_.

Then Shaundi comes in.

"Why in the actual fuck are you going after King before Pierce?" the other woman demands.

Fray glances up from the e-copy of _Frankenstein_ , cocking an eyebrow at the scowl on Shaundi's face. She sighs and sets the Kindle aside. Matt moves his legs, instinctively pulling them up under him away from Shaundi's narrowed eyes.

"Because I need strategy more than PR right now?" she says. "What are you mad about? I'm grabbing Pierce right after."

This does nothing to appease Shaundi. "Okay. And why can't it be _King_ that you grab right after?"

"Why does it matter to you?" Shaundi has had more moments of almost strangling Pierce than anyone else in the Saints, Fray included.

Shaundi's lip curls in a sneer that actually kind of bites at Fray. They snark at one another, sure, but in all the years that she and Shaundi have been friends, things have never gotten malicious. Then Shaundi looks from Fray to Matt before looking back and snorting.

"Never mind." And she spins on the heel of her suit, marching right back out.

Anger bubbles in Fray's chest and before she even knows what she's doing, she's storming after her.

"Hey!" she calls at Shaundi's back. The other woman doesn't stop. "Shaundi, I am not fucking around." It's been _years_ since Fray used The Voice on her friend. The one that promised enemy bangers that she was going to curb-stomp them into obedience. The one that her lieutenants, even Johnny, knew better than to ignore. It still works. Shaundi halts mid-step, tensing before slowly turning to face Fray. She looks less than thrilled but the sneer has been wiped away.

With the continuous stream of bullshit that's happened since the press-conference-that-never-was, Fray has been getting, well _frayed_. She'll let a lot pass because she loves Shaundi and she knows Shaundi loves her, knows that they'd take bullets for each other, and walk through hell for one another. Still, shit has been rough and her limit with being dumped on is near to broke.

"You wanna tell me what your fucking problem is?" Not a request and they both know it. This will not be a pretty exchange (as if it were already).

Shaundi's fists clench then unclench. She looks nervous but still she sticks her chin out and speaks. "Other than you putting people who've gotten shot for you on the backburner, you mean?"

"You know, last time I checked, Ben has done _plenty_ to prove himself," Fray counters. "And I did work with him before I even knew you or Pierce, if we're really gonna dig for reasons. _Which I shouldn't even have to do_."

"It's not about Ben." Kinzie's ability to fade into the background is uncanny. The little redhead doesn't look up from her laptop but she does shift around in the weird giant pouf she's claimed beneath the frontward staircase. "It's about Matt."

"Okay, what?" Fray looks back to Shaundi. Shaundi looks right back at her. "Jesus Christ, are you kidding me? You're mad because I grabbed Matt first?"

"No, Ass, I'm mad because you grabbed one of the people responsible for the death of our best friend, first!" Shaundi snaps. There's a fire in her eyes that Fray hasn't witnessed since they went after Loren. "Not only that but, apparently, he's part of our crew now? _Bullshit_."

"That's what's up your ass right now? You didn't act like this when Viola came to us." Not to Fray, anyway. Viola on the other hand...it was an unspoken thing for Viola to stay out of Shaundi's way. Nothing ever escalated to the point that Fray had to say something.

" _Viola_ defected _to_ us and never stepped out of line," Shaundi says. "She proved herself. Matt tried to kill us a couple more times, then ran with his tail between his legs. It's one thing to work with him while he's on MI6's leash, Fray; it's another to date the motherfucker."

The last words catch Fray like a sucker punch. No joke, they physically stun her. She's not sure what it is, Shaundi's accusation or the utter lack of respect in her voice. It's probably both.

"I am _not_ dating, Matt Miller." The response is automatic but it doesn't feel organic to Fray's tongue. She pushes that down.

The sneer returns. "No, you're playing house with him."

There are very few rules that Fray has. A big one: _Don't hit the people you love with the intent to do real damage_. Fray almost denies that rule and Shaundi feels it. The other woman pales but does not backpedal, waiting for the jaw-breaking punch to come.

"Fuck you, you don't know dick," Fray says instead. Shaundi winces as if it were a punch. Fray is using The Voice again and it is lethal. "Go clean up the bathroom. If you wanna act like a shit you can stay in there."

A jerky nod and Shaundi is walking away. Watching her go, Fray is gripped by the fear that she may have just lost the one best friend she had left. They've had fights, Shaundi and she, big ones too. Fights where shots got fired into the ceiling, fights where shampoo was replaced with bleaching gel, and fights where drug warehouses were set aflame as they shrieked at one another. Nothing before this, though, has left Fray feeling hollow.

It gets even better because, when Fray finally starts breathing again, she catches sight of Matt. He's leaning against the kitchen dividing wall. His eyes meet hers and he looks… _disappointed_? Maybe hurt? She can't get a good fix because he turns and goes back into the cargo bay.

That thing behind her ribs squirms but Fray doesn't go after him. Instead, she returns to Simulation and rips apart a couple of Wardens.

**2\. Matt**

When Matt meets Fray in the simulation to see about pulling Asha, things are tense, to say the least. It's been three days since they've last spoken. Actually, it's been three days since they've so much as seen one another; a miracle considering the size of the ship. He's already exhausted from overclocking it and when he finally sees Fray, he gets to be angry and conflicted on top of that.

He's angry because, well, she's a sociopath without feelings and _he's_ an idiot for not remembering it. He's conflicted because there's a part of him that knows it isn't that simple and is unable to deny the sadness that slips through her eyes when they first find him. Matt is also conflicted because she's wearing those goddamn short-shorts with that torn half-shirt and seeing all that skin only serves to remind him that it's been four days since they had sex. Or kissed. Or even genially brushed fingertips.

"You'll need to be extra careful," he warns her as they make their way to the Broken Shillelagh. "Asha's mental fortitude isn't like anyone else's. Finding her was by far the easiest bit."

She's doing her best to only barely acknowledge him, which stings more than Matt will ever admit. "Whatever. I broke everyone out except for Kinzie and Keith, it'll be fine."

He tries to be patient, really he does. Why, he can't say, he doesn't _want_ to, but he does. God, he'd do just about anything to get her to look at him for five bloody seconds. "Look, Asha Odekar isn't everyone else. She's built up resistances to having her head buggered with, went through years and years of training specifically for this sort of torture. You're daft if you think that this is going to be a cakewalk."

Waving a hand dismissively at him, Fray rolls her eyes. "I just think you're really building this up." Her tone is joking, her face is bored, irritated.

… _Jealous_?

That last thing registers just as he says, "And _I_ think you're drastically underestimating how dangerous the mind of a super spy can be."

" _Superspy_?" Fray's eyebrows draw downward and her upper lip curls as she turns to face him. Scorn isn't something she wears well, especially when it's just a patina over what he just saw. "Jesus, Matt, I get that you wanna fuck her but you don't have to build her a goddamn pedestal."

He doesn't know how to respond to that kind of accusation. Asha is a beautiful woman and all, but Matt sees their relationship as familial more than anything else and knows she's of a similar mind. He so surprised that something between his mouth and his brain shorts out and what comes out is perhaps the most illogical thing he's ever said.

" _That_ is beside the point."

The only hint that Matt gets to say that Fray really doesn't feel so flippantly about this anymore is the way that her eyes widen. It's brief, he almost doesn't catch it, but it's there and he _knows_ that snide remark has been taken the wrong way.

Not like it couldn't be. Idiot.

Before he can even think about retracting his words, though, Fray is walking into the portal. "Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Catch you later, Matt."

She's gone before he can so much as twitch. He stares at the portal for a few moments, seriously entertaining the idea to go after her, but cold logic stops him. Bickering aside, he hadn't been kidding about Asha; her head is a deadly place. If anyone can get through it, though, Fray can.

Matt makes it back onto the ship in good time, five, minutes at the most (bless super powers), right in time to hear Fray complain, "Shit, we're not vampires in this world, are we?"

Kinzie is alone on the bridge, thank heaven. It is so very strange to feel that kind of relief but given how Shaundi terrifies him, Ben and David are too high above him and Pierce is… _Pierce_ , that's what Matt's got.

The former FBI agent/Press Secretary smirks over at him. "She was _not_ happy about the face."

He winces. "She didn't get any sort of a kick?"

"Nope."

Fantastic, something else to add to the long list of fuck-ups he's making. Matt snaps out of his melancholy quick enough when the shots start being fired. He goes to his own station across from Kinzie, ready to assist the ladies, those in the simulation and on the ship, as directed.

Ugh. He really hopes that Kinzie does something rotten soon. This détente between them is too weird.

There's some reprieve in watching Asha making Fray do things her way. He sees them both chaffing; Asha wants control and precision, Fray just wants to get things done and isn't afraid to show it. He laughs out loud when "Asha, that light has a family" comes out of the Saint's mouth; he can't see his partner but he _knows_ those green eyes are rolling. In a lot of ways, it's like the few times Asha made _him_ train with her. The environments were completely safe and sterile, but Asha had treated it all with the exact same odd combination of utterly serious and barely-contained excitement. It amused him then and amuses him even more now with Fray's acerbic commentary. It probably _shouldn't_ , strictly speaking, but it does.

And then he watches an evil clone of his— _of Fray_ blow his brains out.

His "death" doesn't bother him; the rigors of working for MI6 hadn't left time for friends so Asha and Matt had fallen into amity by default. He had figured that he would play into a bad part of her nightmare and prepared himself for it.

What Matt isn't prepared for is what it does to Fray, the _real_ Fray. While Asha, stone cold soldier that she is, allows it all wash over her like nothing, Matt sees that the other woman can't quite manage that. Her lips part in a soft "O" while her whole body jerks with the noise that accompanies the kill-shot. It's miniscule, but Matt sees because he's looking. The tension of her muscles screams that she wants to run—to _him._

Greif, agony, and even regret flood her unfamiliar face, bleeding swiftly into a rage that is wholly and unmistakably Fray.

"Then you're gonna fucking love me, you piece of shit!" Matt remembers this tone all too well. She'd used in Steelport standing over him in _his_ world after she'd conquered it, conquered him.

" _You_." The Un-Fray looks scared behind its bravado.

"See you soon." Every syllable is a promise. It's a promise that Matt watches her deliver with his pulse slamming in his ears.

He should be the one to help Asha out of her tank. He's her handler, her partner, her best friend. Matt stays, though; instead, it's Kinzie who goes to the sublevels where the Stasis Tanks have been stashed away. She sees to Asha and _he_ waits on Fray.

How he knows that she's coming straight out, Matt can't say. He's a little bit afraid to try and guess though a part of him he's struggling to lock up tight is already certain. What's important is that he's there when she does.

Her perfect grayish-green eyes go wide as she steps down from the Simulation Pod and come to focus on him. Matt licks his lips, any and all clever lines he might have been thinking dried up. They're unnecessary though; Fray takes only a few seconds before she's launched herself on him.

Her kiss is harder and hungrier than anything Matt has experienced before. Shaking hands map his face, his shoulders, everything that they can get to, as if doubting he's real. Mildly surprised, Matt goes with it and pulls Fray in as closes as he can get her.

"I'm fine," he whispers breathlessly against her ear after they can't kiss anymore for sheer lack of oxygen. "I'm fine. I promise."

"Room," she responds already jerking him toward the stairs. "Now." He makes no protests even though he _should_ at least go wave at Asha.

Not until later, after they're both depleted and Fray's dozing, does it register to Matt that she didn't call it _her_ room. He looks down at her closed eyes, at the circles beneath. They're dark enough for about three sleepless nights.

Fray isn't ready to put a label on what they have and might never be. But he can't say anymore that she doesn't have feelings, at least where it concerns him. Matt just has to ask himself if he's ready to wait until she can own up to them.

He thinks he might be able to; the way that she mutters his name in her sleep, he figures that they're already halfway there.

**3\. The Boss**

Contrary to Asha's intel and the projection that was her evil(er) self, Fray had bawled like a baby when Aisha died. Snot running down her face, gasping for air, and everything. She just did it where no one could else see. The same goes for when she had believed Loren had stolen Johnny. Still, those jabs, along with so much else from Asha's bubble, stick with Fray.

Things are good for now, though. She and Matt have reached an unspoken compromise over their equally unspoken problems. It won't last, Fray knows that much, but while it's there, she intends to enjoy it.

Apparently, the attitude is noticeable.

"Your face is gonna crack," Pierce teases as they drive toward a virus injection point.

She only raises an eyebrow at him. " _Oookaaay_ …"

Pierce laughs. "You're smiling."

"Should I not?"

"Nah. I just haven't seen you do it in forever."

"What are you talking about?" she asks. "I smile all the time. Did Paul scramble your brains or something? Kinzie and Shaundi are the grumpy ones last time I checked."

Taking a shot at a Saints Flow mascot that's walking down the street, Pierce makes a face. It goes down at once; he must have capped the brain. He turns back toward her with a scowl. "First off, do _not_ mention that thing. Second, okay, true, you're not the most serious person in the crew. But you ain't smiled like you've been doing in years." A smirk forms on his lips. "I'm guessing it has something to do with who you've been sharing your room with."

Fray is starting to dislike where this conversation is going. If she won't talk to the guy she's fucking about their relationship, she's definitely not going to talk to Pierce about it. Especially if it's going to go south things it did when Shaundi brought it up; they haven't spoken in over a whole week.

"Pierce." His name becomes a warning.

"Hey, hey, I'm not judging or prying," Pierce puts both hands up though the smirk doesn't fade. "I just wanted to say I'm glad the smile's back."

Fray snorts, taking the Temptress on a hard left. Conditioned to Fray's violent hand at the wheel, Pierce doesn't even bat an eye when a garbage truck nearly smacks into his side of the car.

"You'd be the first," she says, thinking, of course, of Shaundi.

The shit-eating look on Pierce's face melts for a second, replaced by what might be pity. That's quick to fade too, however, and, as only Pierce can, he shifts the mood with minimal effort.

"Well, you know me, anything to please you, Boss Lady," he tells her. "And so that the room I'm technically sharing with your boy toy stays nice and private."

That gets a smile from her, much as Fray tries to deny it. It's one of her friend's talents and surely more useful than the copious amounts of Saints Flow he can down. "Oh, Pierce, your altruism is beyond words."

"I know, right?" He bumps her shoulder lightly with his own. "You gotta tell me something, though; I've got a bet going on with Keith. Is Miller into pegging? He _is_ , isn't?"

They never make it to the virus injection sight. The Temptress crashes into the side of a house since Fray is laughing too hard to keep control of the wheel. Then, after they extract themselves from the burning wreckage, Pierce convinces her that they've done enough for the day and that a few rounds of pool is what she really needs. She agrees with no real hesitation.

Plus she has some fun new questions to ask Matt.

**4\. Matt**

"Do you honestly need another one?" Matt asks Asha.

She scowls and he holds up his hands. And _he_ thought that losing the internet had derailed his life. Poor Asha cannot cope without a field mission.

"Just saying," he mutters. "If you want to keep sharp, there's still plenty to do in the Main Simulation."

"If I wanted to sharpen my inner berserker, I'd agree with you," she says, a smile tugging at the right corner of her mouth. "Since I am not, I believe I'll pass on tagging along behind your girlfriend."

Matt snorts, grinning down at the keyboard. "I think I'm obligated to correct you and say she's a 'Puckish Rogue' not a berserker."

"Well, she doesn't foam at the mouth, I'll give her that."

He laughs and it occurs to Matt just how much he's missed this, missed having someone he was sure of and with whom he had a natural rapport around. At least until the next sentence leaves her mouth.

"So, do I get to ask about how that all happened? You and the woman you tried to eradicate once-upon-a-time?"

Honestly, Matt's surprised that Asha hasn't brought it up already. It doesn't make him more willing to talk about it, but he does appreciate her not charging in the moment she found out.

He shrugs without looking up. "Not much to tell. We were bored and horny and secluded in space. It's good so we keep doing it."

"Bullshit." There's just enough weight in her tone to make Matt pause and lift his head toward her. Asha's brilliant green eyes have narrowed but not hardened. This question isn't judgmental, just concerned.

He's touched, mostly. A bit indignant too, but he smooths that down.

"I'm not sure what it is exactly that you want to hear," he says as he goes back to coding. "Because I highly doubt it's a play-by-play of what we do in the bedroom."

"Don't be crude." She almost smiles anyway. "And what I want to know is that you're… _happy_ , I suppose."

Matt can't stop himself from tossing a withering glance up at his partner. "Considering that our planet was vaporized and we're constantly on the brink of ruin, I don't think that ' _happy_ ' gets consideration. At all."

Asha mirrors that glance and reaches out to flick his ear.

"Ouch."

"Don't be a baby." She crosses her arms, leveling her most no-nonsense stare upon him. "How do you _feel_ about her, Matt? Emotions. That bag. We both know you have those no matter how else you try to pretend."

Matt knows that he's given himself away as soon as he answers. The words leave his tongue too quick, too hot, and too hard. Asha knows him better than anyone does, fooling her would take a lot more tact than he possesses.

"Don't be stupid, that sort of rubbish is for children."

Green eyes widen and Asha's jaw drops, just a bit. Under other circumstances, Matt would be impressed with himself; it's downright impossible to surprise Asha Odekar. Right now, however, he ducks his head down, putting the screen between them as heat climbs his neck and colors his face.

"Oh, Matt." Pity, empathy, and affection are a sickening combination. "You—"

He cuts her off. "I don't want to talk about it. We are _not_ talking about it." It's unwise to speak to a woman as deadly as his partner like is, to glare at her threateningly as if she were a criminal. Especially, when said deadly woman is your only friend in the world.

Luckily, the friend part keeps Matt from getting shot in the knee.

Well, and the cold, unforgiving vacuum of space. Mostly friendship, though, Matt is positive.

Mouth puckered to the side in a grimace, Asha glares back at him and nods. "Fine. Fine. Whatever you want."

Things are tense for a few moments. Matt has to suppress the urge to squirm and he can actually hear Asha's teeth grinding. Finally, though, a smile cracks through and she shakes her head.

"Did she actually play that little paranormal bromance of yours?" she asks. "Or was Kensington just fucking with me?"

Matt finds himself grinning at this keyboard. "Yes, she did. She also promised to do the prequel with me when I finish writing it up."

Asha laughs. "Ugh. Bloody horrific."

He realizes, a bit belatedly, that he lied to his partner. Earth has been blown to bits and they're teetering on the edge of annihilation but Matt _is_ happy. Fray makes him happy.

Bloody horrific, indeed.

**5\. The Boss**

A week and a half since their fight, Shaundi comes to Fray for help. She suspects Pierce of guilting the other woman into doing it and almost says no on principle. Instead, she agrees to help Fun Shaundi look for her drugs along with the Veteran Child problem because, hey, she's kind of a vindictive jerk and the need to see Shaundi's forehead vein jump is just too enticing. The drugs and violence do them all some good, though. Both versions of her friend are getting along with each other and with her. Still tripping their asses off, they somehow end up in the little pocket simulation Matt made for Fray.

"This place is _so_ nice," Fun Shaundi says dropping down onto one of the stools in front of the bar. It's all really just code but, like everything else about the Simulation, Fray can fool herself into enjoying the drinks that Shaundi is whipping up for their impromptu Ladies Night.

She also loves the fact that Matt remembered little details, like an ever-restocking the bar, when he made this for her.

"Especially without newbies getting underfoot everywhere," Shaundi says. She slides one of the tall glasses of blue curacao, lemonade, and peach schnapps into Fray's hand. Tiffany Blue Lemonade; the bartender Shaundi dated for this recipe is possibly her favorite of her friend's many exes. Never met him but TBLs are the best.

"Yeah," Fray agrees. "But they were cheaper than guard dogs."

They give Fun Shaundi the grand tour of the place, or rather, they try to. She keeps wandering back to the greenhouse; Fray and Shaundi give up on her after the third run and end up cross legged on the bedroom floor.

"You think, like, if you sucked Matt's dick just right, he'd recreate my place?" Shaundi asks after setting the stereo up. She toes off her boots just as Fray has already and plops down beside her. "I miss my clothes."

" _I know_ ," Fray says miserably. "I may not have ever worn those Jimmy Choo platforms but that doesn't mean I wanted 'em to go all 'splody."

"I wore 'em."

"You bitch, I'll never forgive you. Did they look fabulous?"

"Super fabulous. They would've looked even more fabulous on you. Your ass is nicer. Those shoes would've made it go all POP."

"Aww, okay, I forgive you."

They grin at one another, just like they used to, right before Steelport and the Syndicate ruined everything. Shaundi looks away first but she doesn't run off muttering as Fray expects her to. Instead, her head lands on Fray's shoulder—something else that hasn't happened in a very long time.

"Are you in love with him?" she asks, brown eyes serious and focused despite the buzz they keep feeding.

Fray's just drunk and high enough to be honest with her. "I dunno. I like him. A lot. He gives me shit and takes mine. At the end of the day it feels pretty good to sit around and do my thing while he's doing his in the same vicinity." She takes a long drink, finishing off her TBL. "Plus he's good in bed. Like, _really_ good. He made me come three times this morning."

"Wow. T.M.I. and all, but still, wow."

"Yeah."

Shaundi is quiet for a few moments, looking out of the window. It's night here too, and prettier. Matt gave this pocket an absurdly clear sky and moon phases; right now, a crescent gleams in front of thousands of bright pinpricks.

"I thought I was in love with Johnny," she finally tells her.

"I know, honey," Fray says. It's true; everyone knew Shaundi had it pretty bad for Fray's oldest friend, even Pierce, vapid as he could be.

"And Kinzie and Oleg never really did take time to get their shit together, even after the deal with Temple."

"No they didn't," she agrees. Kinzie and Oleg were made for each other. It's fucking movie sad.

"I'm never gonna like the little prick, but if he makes you happy, I can be cool with him," Shaundi says. She tugs at Fray's ponytail, jerking the tie out so she can start braiding sections of it. Fray lets her because why the fuck not? "He fucks up, though; I call dibs on chucking him out of the airlock."

"You got it."

**6\. Matt**

There are a lot of things that Matt's come to expect, or rather, that he's tried not to start discounting since the Earth was lost. Even more so since he started sleeping with the woman that he once considered the bane of his existence. Seeing Shaundi and her 'Fun' double, passed out, naked, and surrounded by several likewise unclothed digital people from the Main Simulation, in the middle of Fray's Penthouse isn't among anything he ever expected when he makes his way in there one early morning/late night.

His chest tightens at the pile of bodies at first, releasing only when he's sure that Fray isn't among them. It's a brief respite, because, of course, he knows she _is_ here and that doesn't mean she's alone.

Quietly as he can, Matt makes his way up to the bedroom.

He doesn't own her, he knows that. They haven't put any labels on their relationship; in fact they've avoided it. He doesn't have the right to be jealous.

None of that logic stops every muscle in Matt's upper body from involuntarily constricting as he stands outside her bedroom door. Swallowing hard, he only finds the courage to push the already slightly ajar open when a noise comes from within.

Fray is alone and asleep, curled in the center of her king-size bed atop the blankets. Several hanks of her hair have been sloppily braided, her makeup is smeared, and her only clothing is a threadbare shirt that's far too big for her. She's definitely had sexier moments but Matt thinks he might just be more attracted to her in that shirt than he's ever been attracted to her in stilettos and a plunging neckline.

It's a wholly stupid way to realize that you're in love with someone.

He stands there, absorbing that realization for fuck-all knows how long, watching her wriggle and sigh in her sleep. By all rights, Matt should be terrified; after all, even the thought of being attached to Fray had turned his stomach for weeks. But he doesn't feel anything remotely like that now. Maybe because his subconscious has been in on things for a while, so he's already accepted it. Another, more likely explanation, is that he's been dating a sociopath, so he's a little desensitized to scary things.

"Hey." Fray's sleep-laden voice cracks through his stupor. He manages not to jump and meets her half-opened eyes.

"Hey," he returns.

Whether it's because she senses that he's stuck or just because it's what she wants to do it, Matt will never know. What's important is that her right arm comes up, beckoning him toward her.

Of course, he doesn't refuse.

Sparing only a moment to strip down to his boxers, Matt takes Fray's hand. Their bodies move without conscious thought; Fray is mostly asleep but she welcomes him against just the same. Her thighs curl around his hips and she folds her head beneath his. Matt's hands slide up Fray's back, one beneath the shirt, the other to the nape of her neck, while hers curl just beneath his armpits. He noses her hairline and kisses the stud in her left brow.

Her breathing is back to a steady, shallow rhythm within minutes. It puffs against his neck and he adores it even despite the touch of liquor that permeates each exhale.

"Fuck, I love you," he says it just to hear the words, to acquaint their texture against his tongue. They feel perfect. Matt hadn't even realized how long they've been clawing at the back of his throat.

"Know y'do. Now go t'sleep."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's Notes:** This _isn't_ the end of Matt and Fray's tale; it's going to continue in at least two more stories, also in snippet perspective form. So don't hate me too much for this ending, 'kay?
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's keeping up with me and reading, you are _awesome_.


End file.
